let go
by MYZ-chan
Summary: -CyrilTokusa- Obsession is never healthy. A series of drabbles in different times, different places, and different situations.
1. Unsweetened Tea

What am I doing to myself.

This is the first of five drabbles from me about this pairing. I hope it is enjoyable (albeit twisted)!

First theme: Unsweetened Tea

* * *

"It's the tissue that breaks first," says Cyril airily, taking the pot off of the stove and placing onto the table. "Did you know that?"

It only stares back at him, breathing heavily. Blood drips and pitter-patters onto the floor like heavy crimson snowfall, covering the white tiles meticulously. The puddles are the same color as Its eyes, eyes that slant and glare and shine with life.

_Mine_, the Noah whispers cruelly. _Mine, mine, make it mine, Cyril, I desire it, Cyril, make it mine—_

"I don't know if that's even true, scientifically speaking," he continues on, watching the steam rise off of the teapot before walking gracefully to the cupboard. As he opens it, he continues to speak to It. "But whenever I break something of a human's body, the first sound that always seems to reach my ears is the sound of tissue ripping and tearing apart. Isn't that strange?"

"_You're_ strange," It whispers maliciously, coughing afterwards and splattering congealed blood all over the front of the black shirt Cyril gave it. It pants shallowly, coughing wetly a few more times before taking in a few rattling breathes. Cyril only watches this pleasantly, as if this is a controversial film he has yet to watch.

He tilts his head and walks over to the It dry-heaving in its chair. Bending down, he sets a cup of fine china down onto the table before it and pours a thin stream of tea into the cup. "While I do realize I am strange," he continues, as if it never spoke, "I don't believe I am as strange as you. Do you realize what you are? A being created by the Order. Something melded with their greatest enemy to create…what?" He puts down the pot. Then he walks over and reaches down, tilting its head up to look him squarely in the eye. "Tell me. What did they create?"

It yanks its head away, glaring at the wall instead. Cyril can hear the heavier breathing from its chest, how that simple movement took so much effort. "Something to destroy things like you and the Akuma," it spits out. Then it begins to hack again, shaking and shuddering as blood runs down its chin.

Cyril lets a small, cold smile slip onto his face, impressed. He's surprised that the poor thing has not died yet from sheer blood loss, more so at the fact that it still has the energy to lash out at him. He takes its chin firmly between his fingers and swivels its head back towards him, and as it struggles, he grips tighter. Finally it stops struggling, instead choosing to stare at him with red eyes filled with hate.

"Incorrect answer," he says in a kind, cold voice. He smirks at it before leaning forward and letting his lips brush its ear, a pale thing under strands of pale green hair. "They created something that belongs in neither world. They created something sickening and pitiful, something that is worthless."

The breathing grows faster, ragged. Cyril can feel it trying to force its mouth open from his grip, only to fail miserably. He smiles wider and lets himself drop the bombshell.

"They created a monster."

It freezes, breathing minimal and scarce. Cyril can hear its heart pumping fast, then slow, erratically so. Pulling away from its ear, he leans forward and presses his lips to the bloodied ones in front of him. He can taste iron and copper, ash and tears and metal, cold metal that blinds and rips away life on its lips.

He breaks it finally, and then lets his fingers run through its hair lovingly. It barely even registers the gesture, eyes glazed over from pain and shock.

"Don't worry, though," he croons, taking his fingers from its chin and rubbing it onto the other side of its head. His forehead touches its gently. "I'll take good care of you. You're my monster now, Tokusa. All mine."

Then he pulls away as if taken by a spell, turning and walking gracefully to the other end of the table. He picks up the cup of tea and sips, grimacing slightly, all the while watching Tokusa stare at him from across the table.

"I hope you don't mind," he says calmly, setting the cup back down on the table. A faint red ring has left its mark on the china. "I've forgotten to sweeten it again. Silly me."

He brings it back up to his lips again and touches the rim.

Tokusa shudders.

Cyril smiles.

* * *

Okay, Tokusa is referred to as an 'it' because this is from Cyril's point of view. Cyril tends to strike me as someone who views anyone outside of his family as merely objects, so that is how I wanted to portray his viewpoint. :) So does the Noah inside, for that matter, which is also why Desires refers to Tokusa as 'it'. Also, this is pretty much how I imagine their conversations in my head. Sadistic, creepy, and slightly obsessive. Yeah.

Well, I hope you enjoyed, and I wish you all a very late Merry Christmas.


	2. Mail

Before you start reading this piece, I would like to apologize for what is about to follow. Forgive me.

Now read.

* * *

Dearest Tokusa,

Hello~ I hope you haven't forgotten me. If you have, though (which I do hope is not the case)—it's Cyril. Cyril Camelot, to be exact. Remember last year at prom?

Anyways, since Valentines Day is coming up, I was thinking that I should ask you what you were up to. Just in case you had anything in mind…

Love,

Cyril

* * *

Cyril,

I have not forgotten you. However, I do wish I had. Please do not write to me anymore, especially since I am now in a relationship with someone else.

I already have plans for Valentine's Day, and they do not involve you, thank you very much.

Also, I would like to enclose you this bill from last year for the time Allen Walker spent in the hospital after prom night. It has still not been paid, as it was addressed to you and we could never seem to find you around.

-Tokusa

P.S. How did you come upon my address in the first place?

* * *

Dearest Tokusa,

Oh, thank goodness you haven't forgotten. And I would love to go with you on Valentine's Day, Tokusa, just love to. I'll come over at eight.

Oh dear, but I seem to recall that the incident was not my fault. The poor boy tripped over the table leg and simply careened into the punch bowl. I just happened to be standing nearby. It was pure coincidence!

Love,

Cyril

P.S. A little bird told me~

* * *

Cyril-

Did I not say in my last letter to not write to me anymore? And that on Valentine's Day, my plans did not involve you? And that I have a relationship?

Don't lie. I saw you trip him.

-Tokusa

P.S. That is not a proper answer.

* * *

Dearest, lovely Tokusa,

Of course you did~ But in the rules of love, No means Yes. So I am coming over, regardless of whether or not you are in a relationship. Besides, if the night is successful, you can have a new one with me!

I haven't the slightest idea of what you are talking about~

Love,

Cyril

* * *

Cyril,

Leave me alone.

But before you do, answer my question.

-Tokusa

* * *

Dearest, beautiful Tokusa,

Never.

Love,

Cyril

* * *

I mean it.

And answer the question!

-Tokusa

* * *

Dearest Tokusa,

Has anyone ever told you that your handwriting is beautiful?

Love,

Cyril

* * *

I should call the authorities on you for sexual harassment via snail mail.

-Tokusa

* * *

Dear, darling Tokusa,

How cruel of you to think such things! I'm simply proclaiming my love. There's no harm in that.

Love,

Cyril

* * *

There is when the love is not returned.

-Tokusa

* * *

Cyril-

I am writing to you because of last night.

You know what you did.

I did not appreciate it, and neither did my significant other.

I did appreciate it, however, when Tevak decided to punch you in the nose for—you know.

I hope that it leaves a scar.

And I also hope that you leave me alone from now on.

Have a nice life.

-Tokusa

* * *

Dearest Tokusa,

Now, now, what's a little kiss between two old friends? And that girl is simply dreadful, you know—the way she glared at me was atrocious. Completely unladylike. Especially that punch of hers, which left me feeling quite sore. It will heal, so don't sound so worried~

I do think that you should leave her, though—she looks like the cheating type.

Darling, darling Tokusa, I could never leave you alone. And I doubt I ever shall! So please, expect more from me.

Love,

Cyril

* * *

Cyril-

Why?

-Tokusa

P.S. Tevak says that if she ever finds you again, she will rip off your testicles and throw them into the garbage disposal.

* * *

Darling Tokusa,

Because I simply adore you.

Love,

Cyril

P.S. Tell her if she ever says that to me again, she'll find herself in the middle of Peru with no water, food, or shelter to be seen.

* * *

Go jump off a cliff.

-Tokusa

P.S. You threaten Tevak again, I'll rip off your testicles myself.

* * *

Dearest Tokusa,

I love you too~

Love,

Cyril

* * *

Why did I make Tevak Tokusa's girlfriend? I thought it would be funnier and to add some girl power to this manga. Also, I like Tevak. She's pretty cool.


	3. Crossdressing

"…you keep what in your closet?"

Cyril beamed at the Third, who shuddered slightly. "Dresses! Would you like to try one?"

Tokusa shook his head quickly, shifting awkwardly in the doorway. Three months since he had come to stay with the minister for a peace treaty between their two sides, and he still didn't feel comfortable being in the same room as the man. _You would be ashamed, Madarao,_ he thought, sighing. "I'd rather not, thank you, Minister Camelot."

"Oh come now, you have to be more open-minded, Tokusa." Humming slightly, Cyril began sorting through the numerous dresses hanging in the closet. "Have you never tried a dress on?"

"Of course not. I'm a man." Tokusa wrapped his arms around his middle, feeling increasingly uncomfortable by the minute. "Have you?"

"On occasion." Cyril smiled. "It helped with international dealings, when they were being…_particularly_ stubborn."

Tokusa stared. "Does that mean you—"

"Goodness, no. Nothing that vulgar. Though I did play around with them a bit before threatening to break their limbs if they didn't sign whatever document we needed." The Noah made a steeple with his own fingers as he ran his eyes over Tokusa's body. The Third forced himself to remain on the spot and not sprint down the hallway like a little girl. "Don't you want to try? At least once?"

"No thank you, minister."

"I've told you many times, call me Cyril."

"Well then, Cyril, I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting in half an hour." Knowing that it was probably not a very good idea but unfortunately not quite caring, he turned on his heel to leave.

Immediately, a hand closed down on his shoulder and turned him around rather forcefully. Cyril's smile was positively dangerous. "Ah, but I want you to, Tokusa," he said slowly. Tokusa noticed, alarmed, that they were being backed into a wall. "Is it so wrong if I want you to?"

"Of course not." _Yes, yes there is._ "Just, not right now. I'm afraid I need to go—"

"Oh? I'm sure you can make some time in your…very busy schedule in order to keep that lovely peace treaty of ours." Cyril's hand was clamped down very painfully on Tokusa's shoulder, and the Third resisted the urge to whimper. God damn it, this had _not _been in the job description. "What do you say?"

Tokusa simply said nothing.

Cyril took that as a yes. "Very good. Let's go, then."

And as the Third was dragged along behind the Noah, he could only think of how he was going to jump off of a bridge after this was all over.

* * *

"It looks lovely on you."

Tokusa resisted the urge to snap at the Noah and instead chose to tug the ruffles of the dress upwards, attempting to hide more of his skin in vain. "Thank you. I suppose."

"What do you mean, 'suppose'? It's marvelous." Cyril's eyes glittered, weaving his fingers through Tokusa's hair. Tokusa swallowed. "You look very good in red, Tokusa. Delectable, really."

_Kill me._ "May I go now?"

"Of course not!" Slipping the hair-tie out of the Third's hair, Cyril set his hands on Tokusa's shoulders. Tokusa suddenly felt the atmosphere fall down to freezing temperature. "After all, the fun has only just begun," he breathed, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Tokusa's.

For a moment, there was absolute silence.

And then, Tokusa, forgetting all of his training and act of composure, shoved the Noah violently off of him, breathing heavily and eyes wide. "What are you _doing_?" he hissed. "You are _married_, Minister, and frankly, I am not interested."

The Minister gave him an injured look. "To be quite frank with you," the Noah sighed, "while I do love Tricia, she's not that adventurous of a person. She is easily embarrassed over anything that exposes her skin. Besides, she's in Southern France at the moment. She won't ever have to know."

"Some husband you are," Tokusa muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But, Tokusa," Cyril said, smiling brilliantly. "I take you for a very adventurous person. And besides," and here, the smile grew soft. "I _have_ grown rather fond of you."

Tokusa wanted to scream. "You must have me mixed up with someone else."

"But you consented to wearing the dress."

"After you wheedled me to." At this point, Tokusa was completely fed up with the Noah's behavior and simply wanted out of the room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with the Order."

"In that dress?" Cyril chuckled. "Do you truly want everyone to see you like that?"

Tokusa stopped. Twitched. Breathed in very, very deeply. "At this point, I could honestly care less."

And, bunching up the dark red fabric in his hands, he stormed out of the room as fast as he could in black high heels and a Victorian ball gown.

* * *

When he got into the room, Howard was waiting with a very disapproving look on his face. "Tokusa, you're late. Where—"

The man stopped, eyes bugging out of his head when he saw what Tokusa was wearing. "…what in the world are you wearing?"

Madarao, who was also in the room and talking quietly with Allen Walker, turned and immediately froze. The younger boy, blinked, confused before looking as well.

Then: "Bloody hell! Tokusa, what on earth happened to you?"

Tokusa twitched, and for the first time that day, let a very dangerous smile grow on his face. Every occupant in the room shuddered. "Don't ask, and I won't be tempted to castrate you in your sleep, Walker."

"Tokusa," Madarao said slowly. "You look exactly like a woman."

"Madarao," Tokusa said, shakily breathing in and out. "Madarao, what did I just say?"

"Don't ask, and you won't castrate?"

"Good man."

* * *

Longest one yet, and the most fun to write. And we are now over half done with this collection! Wheee!

I'm actually thinking of making this into a multi-chapter story. Problem is, I don't think it'd be that good, so. XD Probably won't happen.

Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Forever Mine

"When are you going to let me go?"

When he looks behind him, the man is staring at him with heavy, bloodshot eyes. They are rolling across the desert. The heat is beating down, down, down on the car, and he is sure that if he puts a hand on the car, it will fry it like an egg. One-hundred thirteen degrees outside, and it's only going to get hotter.

"When will you let me go?" the man repeats strongly, yet at the same time seems to sink down deeper into the backseat. "Tell me."

Maybe it is the heat. The heat is getting to him, so he responds in an offhand voice. "Someday."

"Don't do that."

His lips twitch. "What?"

"That. That—game. Don't play that game with me. I don't like it." Unintentionally, the man's eyes slide shut. "If you're going to kill me, just do it."

That makes him stop the car. Turn off the engine, leaving them with the cold slowly draining out of the car. The heat permeates the air and begins to suffocate, slowly, slowly. It doesn't matter to him. He will not die.

The man, on the other hand, might.

"Now, why would I want to kill you?" he coos, sliding out of his seatbelt and into the backseat. Sitting on the floor of the car, he reaches over and brushes the hair out of the man's eyes. It is limp from the heat, stringy from sweat. Once they reach a good spot, he'll probably get him to bathe. "Dear, dear Tokusa, why on earth would I do that? It would ruin all the fun." He runs his fingers down the pale, pale neck. Sliding, slippery with sweat as Tokusa begins to breathe even harsher from the heat.

He simply smiles.

"There is," Tokusa gasps, chest rattling, "no fun—in keeping something that is going—to die." He coughs. Hacks as the heat slowly rises and rises until the pressure on their eyes begins to crush. "Very soon."

He frowns. Unintentionally, his nails dig into the man's neck, and he takes a note of pleasure noticing how that makes him flinch. "How hurtful your words can be. Why would I ever let you die?"

Tokusa barks out a laugh. "You can't stop me from dying," he wheezes. The heat is creeping slowly, slowly until he is certain that if in the next five minutes, if he does not turn the car back on Tokusa will die from heat stroke. "You're keeping a corpse."

He smiles dangerously. "Not yet I'm not." Leaning forward, he presses his lips to the side of Tokusa's neck, causing the man to jerk in shock and the increase in heat. "Don't worry," he murmurs before pulling back, letting the hair run through his fingers. As he sits back down in his seat and turns the car back on, turning the AC on full-blast, he looks in the rearview mirror and smiles as Tokusa begins to shiver, the sweat drying off his skin.

"You're mine forever, Tokusa."

And as they drive into the scorching sun, Cyril lets a smile curl onto his face.

Oh yes.

He will make sure of that.

* * *

Actually part of a bigger fiction I have in mind, a multi-chapter one. Post-war and everything. :|a Who would actually read it?

One more to go!


	5. Reunion

"I'm afraid I still don't quite understand this."

A rustle. A hand reaches out to pat the dresser for an item—a pair of glasses, a light, an alarm. The owner makes a noncommittal murmur accompanied by the hand flopping back down over the side of the bed. "What don't you understand?"

"For one thing…" The voice trails off for a moment, leaden with drowsiness before suddenly finding its way back. "For one thing, we haven't seen each other in years."

A chuckle. "What does that matter in love?"

"And for another—" The owner is cut off by the other reaching over and brushing fingers through hair. "Ow."

"You need to go comb this," mumbles the other, pawing the long strands without opening closed eyes. "Honestly, I can't understand how you can live with this—this thing."

"I've managed to survive," grumbles the other. "But for another thing, I don't even know if I love you. Or like you, for that matter."

Another chuckle, this one deeper. "Oh, I'm fairly sure you at least like me. If you don't remember, I can—"

"It's fine. I remember."

"Shame. I was hoping I would get to give you a replay." A creaking of the bed as the person roles over. The sheets tangle around long legs, emphasizing muscle and bone in the shadows created. Hand goes from hair to cheek, tracing bones and lower eyelids. "I do love reenacting things, you know."

"I didn't, actually. Know that, I mean." Breath intakes slowly, deeply as the fingers, thin and as lengthy as cobwebs spindle over skin, the ocean wind on desert lands. "There was a dream, you know. Before I woke up."

"Mm." The collarbone, traced in swirls and nail. Chest, torso, hips, all traced with cobweb fingers and spider-silk hands. "What was it about?"

Eyelids open, then shutter down again. Spots dancing in the dark, fireflies amongst the trees. "A boy. A man."

"A man?"

"He told me something. Something important." Eyes open, a deep red in the gloom. "But I don't remember anymore."

A hand, pressed on the back of spine. Firm. Cold.

"Sometimes," whispers she, "it's better not to remember."

And when the woman smiles, she can't help but close her eyes again, against the dark gold shining into the dark.

* * *

Yes, this one was gender-bender. I think that these two would really be hot as girls, no? (I should draw that sometime...) Anyways, I may make this one into a modern-day story instead when I have time, since I have more muse for it than the last one (sorry, guys). Would that be interesting? Yes? No?

Anyways, this concludes this collection. It was fun while it lasted, guys. Happy Thanksgiving to you Americans out there!


End file.
